


The Resistance Survives

by this_much_green



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Badass Rey, Drama & Romance, F/M, Hate to Love, wooo star wars excitement
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 06:37:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13828590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_much_green/pseuds/this_much_green
Summary: Desperately searching for weapons, ships, and trustworthy allies, Poe, Finn, and Rey fight under General Organa to rebuild the rebel cause. This is the story of the Resistance a few months after the Battle of Crait.___(I've always wanted Poe+Finn+Rey to have an adventure on-screen, so this is my attempt :D)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello. it's me again. your obsessive rey/poe shipper. 
> 
> i decided to open this one up a bit to more characters...finn...general organa...OCs. i'm hoping for action! love triangles! rebellion! etc! we'll see what happens though. :3 
> 
> disclaimer: i love SW but i am not an expert in the fandom; i will most def. get some technical details incorrect.

Rey hates crowds. The shoving. Bodies pressing. The heat, the noise. It’s suffocating.

Nonetheless, she has a job to do today, crowds be damned. There is little she won’t do for General Organa.

Rey pushes off the wall and eases into the busy street, melting into the sea of people, eyes forward.

There is a relaxed kind of purpose in her steps. Her saber hangs against her thigh, hidden. She has always kept one weapon visible; her long staff rests diagonally over her back.

Smoke clouds her legs as she passes food carts, bringing an aroma of peppers and fried food to her nose.

Static crackles in her ear.

“Feel free to snag me anything that looks good, Rey,” comes the voice of Finn over the comm device. He is somewhere over her head, keeping watch from a rooftop, binoculars pressed against his eyes. Her look-out.

“ -- If I have to even _look_ at another ration bar again -- “

Rey bites back a laugh. “They aren’t that bad.”

“Whatever you say, cap’n.”

Captain. Everyone in the Resistance has taken to calling her captain. Finn is especially fond of dropping the title whenever possible. To Rey it feels uncomfortable, like wearing a cloak that’s many sizes too big. 

“Left up here,” says Finn. “Let’s get a drink somewhere after this, eh? I’m dyin’ up here.”

Rey veers down an alley, grateful for the cool shade it brings. Sparing a short glance over her shoulder to satisfy her paranoia that she’s not been followed, she withdraws a penknife. She could use the Force -- she could try, at least -- but for some things, she still just prefers using her hands.

"I'm at the building," she says, slipping the knife into the lock. “Try to keep eyes on me.”

“10-4. And--Rey?” 

For the first time, Finn is serious as he adds, “Be careful.”

With a satisfying thud of metal, the lock falls open, rolling across brick. 

In one motion Rey grasps the rusted door handle and slips inside, quickly as a cat. 

"I'm in," she breathes, withdrawing a small flashlight from the knapsack laying against her hip. 

Clicking it on, she takes a few slow, careful steps into the warehouse, following the pool of light. Crates gather inches of dust. Junk crowds the room. When she’s on jobs, she likes to snag Finn gifts, especially stupid ones, just for fun. Unfortunately --

"Pretty empty in here. No sign of any weaponry at all.”

General’s intel has told them there’s a cache here, hidden in the warehouse, long forgotten by an old street gang. 

Finn says, “Check the next room -- the door on the south side of the building.”

Rey approaches the door. Holding the flashlight between her teeth, she tests the handle, then begins to pick the lock. She tilts the penknife left, then right, and then --

\-- blood-red light drenches the room. A screeching alarm blares, and keeps blaring, as Rey jumps back.

"It’s a set-up, we’ve been set up," Rey growls over the noise, her flashlight crashing to her feet as she pivots back into the room. The door is thrown open, flooded with guards, and Rey throws herself behind a crate. 

“Finn,” she hisses, barely breathing, “I'm trapped in here. Find me a way out!”

"Northwest corner, there’s windows to the alley,” says Finn’s clipped voice in her ear; she can sense him scrolling through a datapad, urgent, alarmed. “Straight across, but be careful, stay in cover, there's four coming in -- I’ll try to pick them off -- ”

Wincing, Rey lifts herself on top of a crate to better reach the window. She wrestles with the lock, but -- 

"It's _stuck_ ," she grunts, because of course it is.

Pausing to take a sharp inhale, Rey steps back, then launches her shoulder and the full weight of her body against the glass, making it crash in a waterfall of glass into the alley below as she followed after, into the dirt, coughing out a storm of dust from her lungs as she rolls onto her side. 

_"In the alley, she's in the alley!"_ a guard yells, a stampede of footsteps.

Pushing up to her feet clumsily, Rey breaks into a mad sprint, shoving past families and couples, parting the crowd around her. Annoyed, gruff yells followed her as she tears into the sea of people.

Mid-run, she touches the device in her ear. 

"Poe?” she yells. “I mean, commander -- change of plans -- we're leaving early!”


	2. Chapter 2

The tavern is crowded. Patrons jostle shoulder to shoulder, talking loudly over business, a colorful mix of languages. Outside the window, three large, sleek ships roar past, making the crystal decanters behind the bar tremble noisily.

"Two bottles of S'Radal Brew? Thanks," says Poe absently, digging into the back pocket of his trousers to scatter a handful of credits across the bar. Seizing both bottles, he returns to his table in the corner, which is occupied by one other person, a older man with sandy brown hair touched with gray. 

His name is Arlin. He’s a physician, one of Organa’s closest advisors, and the oldest person in the Resistance at the moment. As far as Poe knows, he does not drink, but Poe slides him a bottle anyway.

"Live a little, doctor.” He grins. "I won't tell."

"I might as well," Arlin says, smiling slightly as he drums his fingers against the table. "We might be here awhile. Don't bother with those four in the corner -- " he adds, following Poe’s line of sight. "I asked. They aren’t selling. Not at a price we can afford, anyway.”

“Go figure,” Poe grunts, his features falling into a scowl as he tilts the bottle against his lips. 

Holding the beer inside his mouth, Poe discreetly searches the room for someone who’s selling. And someone selling who’s also a bit of a sucker. He and Arlin are here to buy a ship.

Preferably for dirt cheap.

Through minor theft and junk yards, the Resistance has salvaged a few ships to fly alongside the Falcon, but nothing has firepower or lightspeed they need to pull the fleet together.

But then, like an animal spotting prey, Poe goes still, eyes narrowed across the room. 

“Aha,” he says quietly. “See that--those two just had a deal fall through.” 

He rises to his feet. Casual and confident, he crosses the room to greet the strangers.

"You look like you could use another," he says, raising a hand toward the server for another round. 

Forty minutes later, beer bottles litter the table. Poe has discreetly finished his, and now the men are talking too loudly, a looseness in their voice. Drink less than your opponent; it was the key to every competition and negotiation.

“Sounds like you’ve been down on your luck for too long,” Poe says amicably, when the man finishes his long sob story. Poe adds brightly, “But let’s change your story then, eh? I'll give you 8K for that ship.”

The man blinks. “She’s worth twice that!”

“8K for the ship,” offers Poe, “and I’ll take her off your hands tonight. No questions asked.”

The other man is less of a sucker. He scoffs. “11K, and that’s that.”

Poe barks a laugh, a false laugh. “I _wish_ I had 11 to my name. 8K is all I’ve got. If that won’t work for you, gentlemen, then it’s been a pleasure -- ”

Poe rises to his feet, hoping they won’t call his bluff.

Abruptly, the comm in Poe’s ear crackles with static. He turns to the side, touching his ear.

 _"Poe -- !”_ bursts through the speaker.

It takes him a moment to place the desperate voice as Rey, the Jedi girl. She's here on a separate job -- with Finn, locating weapons -- but apparently, they are about to intersect much sooner than anticipated.

 _“I mean, commander -- change of plans -- ”_ cuts through the static. It sounds like she’s sprinting, perhaps through a windstorm. “ _We're leaving early!”_ ”

Poe drops open his mouth, then turns back to the table.

"You got yourself a deal!" he says, all smiles. "One minor detail -- we're not leaving tonight. We're leaving, uh, right now. Time is of the essence, as they say. Shall we?”


	3. Chapter 3

“Oh I don’t think so,” Finn growls, throwing himself from the top of staircase and onto one of the guards chasing after Rey. With a _thud_ , they slam into the dirt, roll against a wall. Finn holds his forearm against the man’s neck. 

With his other hand, he touches the comm in his ear. “Rey? Where are you?”

“Meet me at the ship docks!”

Finn jumps up, flies into the crowded street. 

At the docks, he skids into an intersection, spinning in a circle. Laser-red blasters explode through the air; the locals are screaming, darting from the street.

“Rey?!” he yells, and he watches, transfixed: Rey's hands appear first as she pulls her body over a low stone wall. She rolls over the side, grimacing as she lands with her palms on the ground. 

“There you are,” Finn says, rushing to meet her, breathing hard.

Holding his knees, Finn realizes, with a lift of his brow, that there is nothing behind them but locked ships, and nothing ahead of them except guards.

“Tell me you have a way out of here.”

Clutching her ribcage, Rey manages a nod, pointing somewhere over his shoulder.

It isn’t the size of the ship that makes Finn open his mouth in shock, although it _is_ roughly the size of a modest house. It’s the fact that in the two-person bridge, he can see Poe, working hard at the field of controls.

Not a moment too soon, the ramp lowers with a plume of air.

As they sprint up the ramp, the engine roars to life beneath their feet. The ship lifts from the docks, the bay door creaks shut, and then the ship is lifting, higher and higher until the city below shrinks into a grid.

Gray clouds dart past the windows as they plunge higher. At last, when the sky darkens to the tar-black of space, they all stumble into the cargo bay, talking over one another.

“Are you alright?”

“Are _you_ alright?”

Arlin trots down the staircase, looking serious. “This ship doesn’t have much of an infirmary, but I’ve got my kit -- is anyone hurt?”

“Just my pride,” Finn sighs, dropping to sit on the edge of a crate as he digs a hand into his hair. He flicks his eyes toward Rey, apologetic. “I should have seen that alarm. I never should have gave you the okay to go in.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rey says seriously, holding a beam as she catches her breath. “You got me out of there.”

Poe enters at last. From the bridge, he half-walks, half-wanders in, eyebrows raised.

“I take it your job went a little sideways.”

“Only a little,” Rey admits, offering a vague, tired smirk. Then she shifts her eyes around the bay curiously. “Did we steal this ship?”

“No. We overpaid for it, actually -- your call interrupted negotiations. At least tell me you found that weapons cache?”

Slowly, Finn shakes his head in confession, but Rey straightens up her shoulders in defense.

“How could we have? Our intel was bad. That warehouse wasn't abandoned at all; there were guards after us.”

Poe looks confused. “You have a weapon, don’t you?”

“There were a dozen armed men locked in the same _room_ as me, it wasn’t exactly a priority -- ”

Poe smirks darkly. “So you didn’t even try to take them out.”

“Poe,” Arlin warns suddenly, slicing through the room.

Finn darts a look between the two, eyebrows arched.

“Let’s have them catch their breath first," Arlin finishes, fixing his eyes on Poe, effectively throwing ice water on his foul mood. In truth, Poe has been in a bad mood for months. 

“Fine,” he mutters, relenting. He crosses to leave the room, but not before adding, “But you can tell the General yourselves.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i admit it, i couldn't help but throw in some angsty poe. i promise he won't be a total ass in this :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my attempt at technobabble!! haa.

Weeks ago, the Resistance made temporary base on a quiet, lush moon, far from any major systems. How long can stay is unclear. For now, they remain hidden. 

Deep jungle surrounds their tents and ships, and the air is thick with humidity, like soup. Several times a day, everyday, it storms. (Rey is the only one who does not seem to mind the precipitation; in fact, she quietly delights in it.)

Raindrops drum against the tent softly as Rey sits inside on a medical bench, her mind on General Organa. It’s not that Leia was furious they did not retrieve the weapons cache -- it’s that she wasn’t. Rey would prefer to be yelled at; it’s simpler.

For now, she holds a pack of ice against her cheekbone, stretching her jaw. When the adrenaline wore off, she and Finn discovered an array of fun, interesting bruises they’d acquired.

Finn sits across from her now, wrapping a bandage around his palm.

“It _was_ unlike you,” he says suddenly, breaking the silence, “not to fight those guards.”

Rey looks up in surprise. Because it’s Finn -- her first friend, her _closest_ friend, her reliable look-out -- she is not offended. 

Not yet, anyway.

“What do you mean?”

“When we met,” he begins, “it was because you whacked me in the face with your staff. You _never_ turn down a fight. Even when you should.”

“Thank you,” she guesses, smirking slightly. “I think.”

“I get where Poe was coming from, back there.”

“Oh, you’re siding with the commander then?” Rey jokes, but Finn’s face is lined with concerned.

“I’m not siding with anyone, Rey. What happened back there? It’s not like you to run.”

“Nothing. I just -- I really didn’t want to fight ten against one, is all.”

In earnest, Rey holds his gaze for several long seconds, then averts her eyes.

She’s lying. Finn knows she’s lying. But he is the kind of friend who doesn’t hold this against her, or take this personally -- he nods slowly, letting it go.

\-----

That night, General Organa calls for a strategy meeting. A canvas tent serves as the war room, and a small but attentive audience crowds the table, chattering before things begin.

“Too bad about the weapons cache,” says Snap Wexley kindly. He’s shoulder-to-shoulder with Rey. “Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“I’m not,” she answers, which isn’t exactly true. Poe happens to be nearby, holding his elbows and leaning against a console. His lips form a line of annoyance, but he says nothing

The moment General Organa reaches the table, the room hushes.

She touches a datapad, bringing a complex, emerald-colored image to life over the table. It’s a schematic of a ship, glowing before their eyes.

In a voice that is both calm and commanding, she asks the room at large. “Anyone know what this is?” 

Silence. Then -- 

“Nero-class Starfighter," come two simultaneous answers, the voices of Poe and Rey. They exchange a glance -- bemused, uneasy -- then look away.

“That’s right," says General Organa, circling the table. "This ship is outfitted with high-grade weapons and defensive shields that outshine anything the First Order has in their fleet. There’s only one known left in its class. It’s manned by a pirate who goes by the name of Calo.”

Her eyes drift over the room knowingly as she finishes, “And we’re going to steal it.”

Interest ripples over the room. A few people exchange uneasy grins. Even Rey -- who is typically muted, expressionless -- lifts her eyebrows, intrigued.

“Commander, you’ll get a team together,” General continues, nodding at Poe. “And Rey?” she adds, meeting the woman’s eyes. “You’ll join. To pull this off, we’ll need the strength of the Force.”


End file.
